


Weapon Of Choice

by Clarice Chiara Sorcha (claricechiarasorcha)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Emperor Hux, General Brendol Hux II, Inappropriate Use of the Force, M/M, Senator Kylo Amidala, Treasonous Intent, Treaties Not Worth The Holos They're Projected On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 05:12:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6410182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claricechiarasorcha/pseuds/Clarice%20Chiara%20Sorcha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>When there's nothing to lose, there is peace of the mind.</i>
</p><p>The evening before the signing of a peace treaty between the New Republic and the First Order, Senator Amidala and General Hux reach an accord of their own.</p><p>And yes. The galaxy is doomed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weapon Of Choice

**Author's Note:**

> You know, I threw a tantrum the other day and said I was going to stop writing for a while because I'd burned myself out utterly on the last fic I wrote. And I did stop. For like, a _day_. I have the week off work, you see, and I got into a KBB chat party yesterday and while I was there amongst the delightful positivity of some wonderful people, I happened to come across [this piece of fanart](http://valinwhore.tumblr.com/post/141931697132/me-myself-you-cannot-be-serious-i-am-in-fact). That just kicked me in the gut. _Hard_.
> 
> I just had to write something. There are so many unbelievable artists in this fandom and I keep trying to appreciate them in the creepiest of ways. So: apologies to the wonderful artist, because this is trash and the picture is stunning, but...but. I just had to try. <3 
> 
> (Incidentally, the line at the top of the story summary is from Hooverphonic's [_Antarctica_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9nVxnMQzOBk), which I had on repeat while writing. Whoops.)
> 
> (And also: thank you for all of those who left such lovely comments and support on the fic that caused me to go off the rails. I appreciate it more than you can ever know. You are wonderful. _Thank you_.  <3)

A tactical error may have been made here, Snoke’s tacit approval of the gesture quite aside. But despite the slew of misgivings supplied by the more logical parts of his mind, Hux could not deny the visceral pleasure of this: moving through the stark and sleek corridors of the _Finalizer_ with Kylo Amidala at his side. A bold and beautiful creature, both – and despite the finery he wore, no-one might mistake him as mere ornament, nor possession. Better instead to understand him as a finely-wrought and honed weapon, as lovely and overwhelming as hidden Starkiller.

The bridge staff looked to Hux now with their usual deference as he crossed the elevated central catwalk, Amidala at his side, one hand raised to indicate that of which he spoke. But even as Hux moved at a clipped pace, guiding Amidala about his ship, neither of them could miss the open admiration of Hux’s staff. There was perhaps a hint of jealousy beneath it, too, hot and heady and uneasy.

This was an unknown factor. While Amidala’s face remained serene, Hux’s experience with Snoke suggested that Amidala likely could sense such things better than Hux could observe them. There was also no way of knowing what rumours had reached the senator’s ears, though the general’s preferences were no particular secret. Amidala surely suspected that should he approach, he would not be denied outright on grounds of mere taste.

Even had he the benefit of the Force, Hux suspected it would have been just as hard to divine the reverse. While Amidala was no true Jedi, even he had heard rumours of an asceticism more suited to one. But Hux could not be sure. The only real certainty he had was of the teasing glint in Ren’s dark eyes during their frequent meetings, even when the man stood upon full ceremony. Or challenged every damn word Hux to say.

And he could still recall the taste of him, earlier that very evening. The treaty would be ratified the following day, this rendezvous over dinner at the senator’s home but a formality. In the man’s receiving room Hux had gone before him on one knee, left hand pressed to his thigh; the other he closed about the strong fingers, drawing them to his lips.

Yet, for all the apparent subservience of the pose, Hux had not bent his head with the deferral the senator’s position should have demanded. Instead he had looked up into the man’s face, pale-skinned and flecked with dark moles, unblinking and wordless. Holding that pose with a soldier’s easy discipline, Hux had then pressed his mouth upon the knuckles. There, he had opened them: just enough to play the faint flick of a tongue over the skin. It had given him the faint taste of salt, the lingering scent of a musky cologne, the metallic bitterness of the ring about one finger.

And Amidala had gazed down upon him, wordless, brow furrowed with but a faint curiosity. It had smoothed back into his usual élan as Hux had returned his hand, rising again to his feet.

Hux had never spent much time in the company of Force users, if he did not count the Supreme Leader. But then Snoke was not as any other Hux had known. The strange creature kept it coiled around himself, rendering his knowledge and skill a strange and unquantifiable unknown. Amidala _radiated_ it, a living shadow that burned brighter than even the first sun already chosen to be swallowed whole by Starkiller.

Hux himself was no sensitive, and even he had startled upon first meeting the man. Yet for all the light of him, Amidala’s presence in the living Force was hardly peaceful, and somehow, more worryingly: _familiar_. Almost knowing. Hux felt it as a wellspring of secrets that whispered in teasing currents about Amidala – as if Hux might know them, if he but stepped a moment forward, and allowed himself be drowned.

They stood together in silence upon the bridge, before the marching trapezoids of the great viewscreens, Hux having completed his civilian-oriented detailing of the ship. Red and blue light limned the dark gleam of her endless control panels, their utilitarian glare utterly at odds with the soft white and gold and green of the man at his side. Beneath them, Hosnian Prime turned lazy upon her off-set axis, the easy lines of her curvature falling away into endless space, star-riddled and silent.

“It is a remarkable ship, General.”

“Well.” Hux kept his eyes upon the current host of the Republican Senate. “She is our flagship.”

“And with a full complement of kyber crystals to power her turbolasers, too.”

He could not keep the sharpness of his tone from his voice when he turned, the snapping demand of a man who had made high rank from youth, and could not easily remove it from his voice even when not commanding his personnel.

“What?”

Amidala inclined his head, hooded and crowned, towards him; half in darkness, his smile could only be a strange and secret thing. “I can sense them.” With careless elegance his eyes remained upon the planet, voice that low cultured baritone that shivered beneath his skin in more ways than one as he added, “They were not mentioned in the treaty.”

Snoke had not detailed this possibility. But as a Force user himself, he must have known it could happen. From the first Hux had expressed concern at revealing the full truth of their Resurgent-class starships, but Snoke had encouraged the exchange of information. _Let them think they know us_ , he had said, dark eyes unreadable, lipless mouth curled in something close to a sneer. _Let them think there can be trust, between us_.

Hux did not lift his searching gaze from the senator. Knowing of their rumoured camaraderie – though there were those who would have said their working relationship was ninety percent debate and outright argument – Snoke had been the one to suggest that Hux invite Kylo Amidala aboard. At that point Hux had figured it for Snoke’s curiosity about the man; he had easy access to the minds of the crew, if he wanted to extract additional observations of Amidala through familiar eyes.

But as Amidala turned now to face him, one eyebrow delicately arched, Hux realised he did not know what Snoke wanted, at all.

“Shall we have a drink, perhaps?”

The smile he wore was one prescribed by years of officer training, little more than pleasant accommodation. “If it pleases you,” he said, with a nod towards the port exit. “The officers’ bar is not far from here.”

“No.” The compelling resonance of it caught not only Hux’s ear; beneath them, technicians started from their work. And Amidala smiled, shook his head, as if that could dispel the strangeness of his voice. “Let it bet just you, and I.” Now he chuckled, one hand raised, gliding through the air with an orator’s easy grace. “As I recall, our conversations can become quite…enthusiastic. I should hate to disturb your crew when off-duty.”

It could be little but a definite mistake. Already his eyes lingered upon those generous lips, the faint quirk of them mirrored by the light in his eyes. Amidala did not exaggerate; the two of them had been known to shout down the patience of all other diplomatic staff in the vicinity. But that was not the concern that tightened his nod, hands still folded together at the small of his back.

“Follow me, Senator Amidala.”

Though he made no comment, Amidala seemed content to be guided to what could only be the general’s own quarters. They stepped inside, the ambient light low, Hosnian Prime a gleaming orb just beyond the transparisteel viewports that took up one entire wall of his living area. Amidala waved away Hux’s instruction to increase the lighting, crossing the room with light-footed grace. Hux had never seen him with a saber in hand. He could imagine it now: the lord surveying his kingdom, favoured weapon just a moment from his closed fist.

“You have a tremendous view.”

Hux remained at parade rest, just inside the closed and secured doors. “I _am_ the commanding officer.”

At first this earned him only a low chuckle. Then Amidala was turning, eyes bright even in the gloom, long body in pale silhouette against the world below. “Yes, but it’s the same over much of the ship,” he observed; already his own attention had been caught again, his face turning once more to the view. “You like to look out. Over the galaxy.”

“Yes.”

This time Hux received a brilliant smile as Amidala pushed back the hood from his face. “So: about that drink, General?”

His private stores always held a fine selection; choosing a particularly favoured brandy, Hux poured two glasses, served the larger first. With the hood now pushed back, Amidala had revealed a tumble of soft dark hair; for not the first time, Hux wondered at how it would tangle between his own gloved fingers.

From the smile he wore, Amidala might have been aware of such thoughts; his lips closed about the rim of his glass as he leaned his head back, the working of his throat displayed by the high open throat of his tunic. And then he tilted his chin low and forward, the glimmer and gleam of his jewellery golden reflection in those impossibly dark eyes.

They had things they might speak of. Instead they sat in companionable silence, opposite one another as if they might deign to play between them a game of sabacc. And yet Hux only watched the senator drink first one glass, and then another, even as Amidala watched him do the same in turn.

There was no telling how long they might have played this wordless game, if not for the light chime at Hux’s side. With a frown he turned, looked to the low sidetable; his datapad, set down but never far from his hand, chimed again that it had received an urgent message from his upper command.

“Senator.”

Amidala arched one well-formed eyebrow, paused upon a swallow. Hux’s eyes dropped again to the datapad, ever so slightly blurred.

“If you will excuse me, a moment.”

“Of course, General.”

The purr of that low voice shivered through him as he pressed to his feet. For a moment he paused, lightheaded; it made little sense, given he’d been in the habit of drinking far more than this when he’d been but a junior officer, one who still weighed barely more than the freshest of academy entrants. And then he was striding to the door, palming the code, stepping into the chill of the corridor. A figure stood just beyond, startling at the hiss of the general’s door. When he turned to face him, the man almost looked almost lost. Hux frowned, hands moving to curl together behind his back.

“What is it, Mitaka?”

He blinked, eyes skipping both left and right before focusing upon him, clear confusion writ there. “General?”

“You commed me. What is it?”

“I…” Mitaka actually grimaced, the youthful roundness of his face pained and strange. “I didn’t. Sir.”

“Then what are you doing out here?”

Hux was not in the habit of speaking too sharply to his crew; while he believed in discipline, outright cruelty rarely achieved the targets he had them working towards. Though there was only a clear edge to his words now, Mitaka wilted beneath them as if they were blaster fire. “I…I’m not sure.” One hand, faint with tremor, rose to rub his head; when it lowered, Hux saw it come away damp with sweat.

And yet, Mitaka directed the question at him, sudden, eyes very wide. “Are you all right?”

Blinking just once, Hux returned with flat calm, “I believe I should be asking you that.”

“I…I see.” Again, Mitaka stared at Hux as if he’d just been kicked between the ribs. “I just…I thought of you. And I worried.”

It would be the work of a moment to turn to one of the wall units, to comm the officer’s medbay and summon a droid to accompany Mitaka to a full examination. Including pysch. And yet he did not do it. Hux instead tilted his head, frowned as if he might read upon his troubled face what madness seemed to have overtaken his lieutenant. “I am your general,” he said, very slow.

“And that’s why I worried!” A sudden flush crept up from beneath even his high collar; for a strange moment, Hux thought he might actually slap a hand over his own mouth. “I – I’m sorry, sir. Please excuse me.”

“Mitaka.”

Though he had not been dismissed, Mitaka had already turned away. In the moment he paused, an incredulous Hux actually believed he would not turn back. Then he did, though the odd strain of his face spoke to a failing attempt to hold it expressionless.

“Why would you worry about your general?”

“Because you are ours.” Mitaka blinked, very hard, a dreamer trying to rouse himself from a sleep he did not even realise he had fallen into. “I…I really do apologise. I’m not sure what’s…what’s wrong with me, tonight.”

The faint flare of suspicion rising in Hux’s mind might have provided answer enough. “You are dismissed, Lieutenant.” He did attempt to soften his voice when he added, quiet, “And I belong to no-one but myself.”

“We still belong to you.” Again, Mitaka looked as if he wished he hadn’t said it; these were deep thoughts, spoken aloud, and without permission. Something very close to fear had entered his eyes as he gave a jerky salute, turned, and then: was gone.

 Setting his jaw, Hux spun upon a heel, slamming his palm against the doorpad. At a quick clipped stride he returned to the living quarters, pulled up short. Amidala no longer sat upon the second couch. Indeed, there was no sign of him at all.

“Senator?” His voice now held the full measure of dark irritation that he had not spent upon the unfortunate Mitaka. “Senator Amidala?”

Amusement coloured his voice, bright and brilliant, where it drifted from an open doorway. “Tell me, General: how many senators _do_ you keep in your rooms?”

Fist clenched now, Hux stormed into his own bedchamber. And then, he stopped dead.

Amidala smiled, standing before his bed. “And at this point, I really think you could just call me _Kylo_.”

And said smile was the only thing he wore. The man was absolutely naked.

Hux was a soldier, trained almost from birth. He could not help but cast his eyes over the body before him, cataloguing, categorising. He’d suspected something of this reality given the fit of his clothing, and the rumours that Amidala had never stopped practising the forms of a Jedi, though he never had been named one. There were broad shoulders, upper arms heavy with muscle. A generous chest tapered to slim hips, and already Hux’s fingers itched to trace the dips and lines of his abdomen, flat and taut and firm. And then there lay his cock, soft yet between strong thighs, nestled in a light dusting of dark hair.

It was only the long years of strict military discipline that allowed Hux to keep his eyes and voice cold and disinterested when he raised both to meet Amidala’s own. “I did not realise this was why you wished to come aboard.”

Again came that light laughter, so mismatched to the dark reaches of his eyes. “Oh, General, don’t be offended,” he said, and half-turned on an encompassing wave; Hux could not miss the clear view it provided of his particularly lovely rear end. Amidala smirked when their eyes met again. “I wanted to see your pretty ship, too,” he said, and grinned wider as he took a step forward, hips smooth and sinuous. “But yes. _This_ is the reason why I wished to…come aboard. As it were.”

It should have been easy enough to spar verbally with the man. They had been indulging in the practice ever since they had first met. Hux could not find a word to speak as Amidala came closer yet.

The smile had turned strange, almost fond, now; beneath his eyes, the high cheekbones held the flush of his surely hurried disrobing. “Kylo,” he whispered, again; the second time, his lips whispered the words against Hux’s own. “My name is Kylo.”

And Hux huffed out a low snort, eyes unblinking as they met the hooded black of Kylo’s own. “I thought your name was Ben.”

A sharp bite warned him of a line crossed; the taste of blood bloomed harsh against his tongue. But the lips that then pressed over his own were soft, lazy in their exploration as Kylo pressed close; one hand shifted about his own narrow waist as if he had a mind to close it in his large hand, and the other gentling his chin just the slightest tilt upwards.

Hux had not invited it, but Kylo appeared to very much enjoy the sensation of his bare skin against the fabric of Hux’s pristine uniform. The uninhibited invitation of it could not be denied; already his own hands traced up the curve of waist to shoulder, delving into the thick hair as he sought to control the pulsing give and take of their kisses. Kylo chuckled, one hand in Hux’s own bright hair as he half-heartedly sought control, and then just ground the evidence of his arousal against the thigh that had slipped between his own.

“Do you have anything here, General?” A little nipping kiss, to the quick pulse in his throat, and then Kylo returned his lips to Hux’s own. “I did bring something,” he added, words rumbled from low in his broad chest, something terribly close to a laugh. “I do prefer to be comfortable.”

Had he not such a delightful handful of ass, his own hips grinding in slow circle against Kylo’s own, Hux might have stepped back right then. “Oh, you were _that_ certain you would be able to convince a general of the First Order to bend over for you?”

“No.” His hand moved between them, the ring very cold against his skin where it slipped into his trousers, callused fingers light over the twitch of his trapped cock. “No,” he breathed against his throat, “I was just very certain I would do all in my power to be bent over _by_ him.”

The speed with which Kylo undressed him might have been alarmingly under other circumstances. In this, Hux found he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything except how quickly it brought them both to bed.

It ended with Kylo stretched out on his back, and already the pale skin had been littered with marks. Hux could not resist the temptation of it; the path of trailing fingertips had been so easily followed by the scrape of nails, every kiss ended with the sharpness of closing teeth. Kylo, for his part, appeared to enjoy it. He lay with languid amusement upon Hux’s dark sheets, as if perfectly at ease with worship – even that which verged upon the broken edge of pure desecration.

“I want to show it to you.”

Hux frowned up at the sudden words. “What?” His had been distracted for several minutes, hand slick with the fragrant oil as he pressed three fingers deep in Kylo’s ass. “Show me what?”

The slim hips shifted, and Kylo gasped with gratification as the fingers slid further in, completely at odds with the pace Hux had chosen to set. “The Force,” he whispered, and the blown-wide pupils, so dark and large in the pale face, sent a cold shiver along Hux’s exposed spine.

“Kylo—”

“General.” Both hands pressed flat against the sides of his face, the hazy eyes suddenly very certain, and very clear as he drew him close. “General, let me do this for you.”

The few times Snoke had been in his mind held no fond memories for Hux. They blurred together, faint and skittering in the way of archival holo images; while they held half-remembered sensations of pain and fear and fury, it was the absolute _exposure_ of the experience that lingered longest. Now, naked though they were together, he had no telling of the real strength of Kylo Amidala, he who had been Ben Solo. Once trained as a Jedi, now a senator of the highest order, but still the son of queens and smugglers and those who had served the old empire.

The answer was simple. “No.”

“Yes.” The smile was bright, but curled with the low slyness of a child who had never been denied anything he demanded. “I want you to see.”

His hand had paused in its working; crooking his wrist now, Hux pressed fingertips over the soft rise of tissue he found there out of pure spite. “Why?”

Kylo gave a welcome moan, back arching; for a moment, the moment held itself still and sudden, both of them quite taken by the pleasure of it. And then Kylo subsided, mouth half-opened, breath hitching once, twice, three times before he caught sense enough to speak again. “Because we could be something. You, and me.” And now he frowned, sudden as a stormcloud, lips twisting. “But not if you don’t know.” His hands tightened, nails digging into the skin of his temples. “Not if you can’t _see_.”

Hux jerked his head back, freeing himself even as his fingers thrust deeper still. “ _No_.”

This time, Kylo keened, legs falling wide, chest thrust up, hands fisted in the sheets as he gasped for breath, eyes fixed and staring upon the ceiling. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, General.”

And he snorted, withdrew his fingers. “Good.”

“Because you want this.” The certainty of his words rocked Hux to the core, held him very still by nothing more than their perfect sound. “You want me,” he added, and slowly he rose from his supine position, coming to press up close against his side, a knowing little spirit of conscience upon his shoulder. “And you want what I can do for you.”

“Stop.”

Kylo did. But he did not leave, and in that he had won. The dark eyes had fixed on him, their colour the endlessness of space without visible stars. But they were there. Hux didn’t know how, but he saw them: bright and shining and tempting.

And Kylo smiled, something small and very nearly sweet. “General.”

“Brendol.”

That slight smile deepened, became something closer to a smirk. Already Hux regretted the slip, even as Kylo stretched, a great felid rubbing up against him.

Hux allowed his eyes to fall closed, hands fisting; he could still feel the heat of Kylo’s body upon those slick fingers of his right hand, hot and welcoming. “I am not interested in the Force.”

“But it is interested in you.”

He snorted, tilting his head so that their foreheads pressed together, giving him what he hoped was a thoroughly unimpressed look. “I did not realise it had feelings of its own.”

“Not like you or I, perhaps.” And their head bent close together, conspirators in some plot Hux did not even know the end game of. Kylo’s smile now had turned almost apologetic when he added, “But it wants you.”

“Why?”

Again, that faint and damnable laughter; one hand rose, began to trace lightly over his chest, feeling the quickening of both heart and breath; below, his cock twitched, desperate for touch. But Kylo’s eyes never broke contact with his own.

“Why do you think Snoke wanted you?”

The name was an unwelcome shiver along his spine. Here Hux lay naked in bed with the technical enemy, toothless treaty or no. Snoke was the last thing he cared to think of now.

Kylo’s searching eyes narrowed, something like a frown upon his lips. “He can’t see us, right now. I made sure of it.” And there was something else there, something far beyond Hux’s ken when he added with calculated negligence, “Besides, he doesn’t want to. He thinks this is just sex.”

Hux pursed his lips; trust had never come easy in any person but his own, especially when other people spoke much skin-prickling nonsense as this. “Kylo, it’s hardly comforting to try and convince me that one person isn’t reading my mind by reading it yourself.”

Again, that breathy laughter, a hand tightening on his waist in a manner more platonic than sexual. “Brendol,” he said, and then glanced up, expression turning enchanted. “You have such beautiful hair.”

“That’s – _what_?”

And he glanced down again, expression grave, “Snoke wanted you for the same reasons I do.”

“My _hair_?”

He pulled it, just a little – just enough to shock clarity into Hux’s thoughts with the bright edge of pain. “I could teach you.” The faint hint of sudden madness there had Hux drawing back, even as Kylo drew closer yet. “Of the Force,” he whispered, and Hux blinked, rapid and involuntary.

“I have no sensitivity.”

One long hand closed around his cock, gave it a lazy squeezing stroke.

“ _Kylo_.”

“It’s beautiful, you know.” And his lips were over his again, hard and demanding, even as he whispered between them, “It’s like flying.”

His body willingly acceded to the demands of Kylo’s own; his muddled thoughts were far more difficult to reorder, and were only becoming more tangled by the moment. Hux always had enjoyed sex well enough – as a straightforward physical transaction. Kylo Amidala wanted something more, something Hux did not know he had to give, or if he possessed the funds required to pay for such peculiarities.

“If you would be mine,” Kylo said, “I would give you the galaxy.”

Again, he said it so easy: the certainty of a child who believed still in the fairytales Brendol Hux Jr. had known only as contraband rubbish from the New Republic. “It’s hardly yours to give,” he said instead, taken aback by the weakness of his own denial. Kylo leaned back upon the bed, opened his arms, and then his legs.

“It could be.” The smile was a double-bladed invitation, blooded and sharp. “Do you want it?”

“Kylo—”

“Do you?”

His hand, callused and sure and that of a swordsman, had continued to work over Hux’s cock. Each oil-slicked draw came long and hard, Kylo staring into his eyes with every quickening breath. And in those dark eyes Hux found a reflection of his own mind, of a thousand dreams; first childish and half-formed, solidifying with age and knowledge, cresting at last with a perfect transmutation into the furious focused desire of a blooded general standing before his armies.

He had but one step higher to reach.

“You need me.” Every word came as simple as the basic tenets of the universe. “And I need you.”

But Hux had never thought to embrace the point of no return: not when it appeared populated by little more than illusion and fools. “Why?” he demanded. “What makes me so needful to you?”

“Because I _want_ you.” His delight was a terrifying thing, bright and burning; for a moment Hux could not even look at him. And then Kylo’s hands were on his face, drawing him down, drawing him over. “So fuck me,” he whispered against his burning cheek, damp and hot. “ _Fuck_ me, your majesty.”

It humbled Hux, to feel the strength of him, pushing back against his hands even as Hux rose above him. Looking down, it was as if he’d climbed to some great height from which Kylo would call him down, drag him down, drowning him at the very deepest depths even as they closed lips and breathed together.

Then he was pushing in; Kylo gave a startled sound, back arched, throat bared. Hux bit down; the resulting snarl had Kylo clasping a clawed hand about Hux’s head, fingers tangled in hair as long manicured nails scraped down his scalp. The other closed about his ass, tight, pushing, inviting him deeper.

The long legs rose a moment later, closed about him as a vise. Damp foreheads pressed together, Hux’s eyes closed even as he could feel Kylo’s searching gaze willing them open again, breath a hard gasp through lungs that felt three sizes too small. Bracing both hands either side of Kylo’s head, thumbs catching and pulling at his wild hair, Hux began to move his hips, snapping and quick. Kylo moving in turned, but he pushed back, meeting every thrust with fierce pleasure. The clench of his body, hot and dragging, only invited Hux to drive deeper still.

“Brendol,” he was whispering, summoning him closer though Hux failed to see how they could be any nearer than this. “ _Brendol_.”

Opening his eyes only allowed the sting of sweat to pour into them, the damp hair hanging in his eyes just making it worse. “What?”

“Come with me.”

“Come _where_?”

“Everywhere.”

A hand moved between them, and Kylo took his own cock in hand; given the press of their bodies, Hux could not help but feel it between them, hot and damp. But there was no real hope of escaping his eyes. It was if they summoned him ever forward, finding Hux fit to dragged over the limits of an event horizon. Then he would know only his doom, caught in endless freefall: never going back again, but never ever to reach the burning heart at its collapsing centre.

“No,” Kylo whispered. Around them, the air crackled with ozone and lightning; he laughed, low and clear as thunder. “No, Brendol, you’re already there.”

It ought to have been impossible. It made no _sense_. But then, nothing of this evening made any sense to him. Kylo didn’t appear to give a damn, pulling him down, pulling him in until Hux gave a startled cry, spilling himself into his body. And with a low sigh, satiated and sure, Kylo followed him but a moment later.

Hux had more than one experienced a catastrophic loss of gravity; even with the most rigorous of training and the finest of young minds, the First Order’s engineers were not above the occasional error of calculation or construction. And he recalled now how it had felt, the first time; the sanctity of solid ground, slipping out from under him as his body spiralled upward, seeking the stars that he had no place amongst.

_You have your place amongst them, now._

It was Kylo’s voice in his mind, and in his ears as long fingers traced between their breath-starved bodies, slowing slipping his softened cock from within himself. “We still have an accord, yes?” he murmured even as they pulled apart; when Hux spoke, his voice rasped hoarse, almost helpless.

“Damn you, Kylo.”

He only smiled. “I take that as a yes.”

But they did not part, even in the silence that followed. Though the general’s bed was a size more generous than most, it had not been built with such liaisons in mind. Hux had no intention of being driven from his own chambers. Given Kylo seemed content where he lay, it left then pressed together from shoulder to hip, strange creatures come from distant lands to meet somewhere in an uncertain centre.

“So what will you be, if I am emperor?” He saw no need to blunt the edge of his smile, the brilliant white of bared teeth. “My queen?”

One arm rose, lazy and long as the fingers curled about Hux’s chin. “Silly boy,” Kylo said, and strong fingers drew him close for a kiss mixed with merry words. “We’ll build a throne large enough for the two of us together.”

And Kylo had to know that was not as Hux had dreamed it.

For a long moment, his body primed – ready to rise, to walk away. Kylo shifted against him, warm and inviting. And then, Hux closed his eyes. Even without Kylo’s smile pressed into his skin, knew he would dream of something different tonight.

He supposed one could not expect less, when it came to diplomatic missions between the two greatest powers in the known galaxy.


End file.
